


Powerless

by orphan_account



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, F/F, Knifeplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:18:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8720461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Another little treasure from the old fic closet, a birthday present for a friend, and a sort of extension of the "Learning Curves" universe, in which Cat is angry with Kara upon learning her super-secret.  Oh, and it's porn.  Filthy, filthy porn.  :)





	

The penthouse door swung open.  “Oh,” Cat said, disdain dropping from her lips with each word, “it’s you.”

They stood there, looking at each other for what felt like an endless moment.  Finally, Kara took a breath and began, “Miss Grant, I want to talk about–”

“I don’t see that we have anything to talk about,” came Cat’s curt response.  The familiar scent of martini drifted on her breath along with her words.  “You’ve been lying to me.  And I don’t tolerate that.  You know I don’t.”

Kara looked hurt.  It was true, she had been keeping things from Cat this entire time.  Well, one thing, really.  But everything else had been honest.  She loved giving herself to Cat’s every whim.  She loved being cuffed to the bed while Cat rode her mouth, or being bent on her hands and knees to receive Cat’s fingers, or the rather impressively sized strap-on she favored (Kara liked that thing.  She liked things that pushed her to  _ feel _ .)  She loved being commanded to strip, to finger herself, to lick Cat’s pussy to three and four orgasms.  She had discovered that much relatively early into their arrangement, before she had begun to explore her superpowers.  And now that she had gone public, had become Supergirl?  Well, she had needed it that much more.  The pressure, the weight of it all, the safety of the city laid so heavily on her shoulders, that even with the support of the team, sometimes it was more than she could bear.  Sometimes, she just needed to have Cat take all her clothes off and tell her what to do.   


“I know, Miss Grant, but I want to explain–”

“There’s nothing to explain,” Cat interrupted her coldly.  “Now go do whatever it is superheroes do when they have to think about why lying is wrong…  _ Supergirl _ .”

She started to close the door, but Kara stopped her.  “Cat!” she cried, throwing her shoulder against it.  “I’m not Supergirl!”

Cat pushed back.  The door wavered between states of open and shut as they scuffled.  “Stop lying to me!”   


“No no, I mean…”  Kara pushed harder.  “I am, but … but not right now!”

Cat stopped pushing and stepped out of the way.  The door flew open and Kara went stumbling gracelessly into the apartment.  She found her balance after a half moment.  Cat was standing, one hip out to the side, arms folded, gazing at her through narrowed eyes.  “What is that supposed to mean?”

Kara knew that, more than being lied to about her identity, Cat was angry that Kara had been only pretending to be subdued by those handcuffs, those leather ties.  That she could have snapped them anytime she wanted.  That it suddenly changed the currency of the power that passed between them, and she didn’t like it.  


“I mean,” Kara panted desperately, “I’m not Supergirl right now.”

“Look, just because you’re not wearing that stupid suit–”

“I don’t have any powers right now,” Kara interrupted, hastily, nervously.

Cat snorted.  “You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s true!”  Kara swore.  “I went out into the middle of the ocean and blew them out, on purpose.”

“Sounds like an environmental disaster waiting to happen.”  But Cat wasn’t trying to shove her out the door anymore.

Kara swallowed hard and continued.  “I thought you might not believe me, so…”  She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a small switchblade knife.  She popped the blade open.  Cat stepped back.  “Come on, Miss Grant,” Kara sighed.  “You have to know I could never hurt you.”

She spread her palm open, and once, carefully, wincing with pain, dragged the blade across it.  It seared, the pain, but she strangled the sounds in her throat.  Hot tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.  And her hand bled, little beads of glistening red popping up along the line where she’d cut.

Cat stared at her bleeding hand.  She then took it, gently, cradling it, inspecting it.  Kara knew that she understood what it meant that she was bleeding; that she was telling the truth.  “So,” Cat mused, looking at the wounded hand.  “I wonder what I’m supposed to do with this now.”

Kara stuffed the knife back into her jeans.  “Whatever you want,” she whispered.  “I’m still yours to do whatever you want with.”

She saw Cat’s eyes flutter closed at this.  She knew that those words struck at her core, rang the deep bell of Cat’s need to completely claim her.  She slowly backed Kara against the wall in the foyer.  She took the wounded hand, and thoughtfully, slowly, licked the blood from it. She took that hand, and then the other, and pinned them to the wall above Kara’s head.  Then she bit into Kara’s neck, hard, and heard her sharp cry of pain.  She looked, and saw deep bite marks where she’d been.  She’d never been able to leave those, not like that.   


That was all she needed.   


Cat grabbed her by the shirt collar and dragged her to the bedroom.  She pushed Kara down onto the bed fully clothed, bound her wrists to the headboard with a silk Hermes scarf.  “Let me see you get out of it.”

Kara struggled against them for a moment.  “I can’t.”

“That’s right.”  Cat prowled up the bed.  She reached into Kara’s pocket and pulled out the knife.  “No faking this time, hm?  You really are all mine.”

“I always was,”  Kara whispered.  She needed this, needed whatever Cat was going to do to her, craved it like breathing.   


“Mm,” Cat mused, popping the knife open again.  “But you were pretending.  It was a false surrender.”

“This isn’t.”

Cat smirked evilly.  “I know.”   She took the knife and began to cut Kara’s clothes off, slashing and removing like she was clearing brush.  Kara felt the cool of the blade against her skin, the sharpness of its edge, as Cat slid it beneath her cotton boyshorts, and then cut those off too.   


Kara was open, naked, powerless… and wetter than spring.  Cat traced the point of the blade lightly up her abdomen, up her sternum, across her shoulders.  Not hard enough to draw any more blood, but hard enough that Kara was acutely aware of its sharpness.  She belonged to Cat, she was proving it to her, the point of that knife was her evidence.   


“Then do what you want with me,” Kara panted.  “I lied to you, Cat… Don’t you want to punish me?”

Cat made a hungry little sound down in the bottom of her throat.  “And how should I do that?”  She held the knife up.  “With this?”

Kara was trembling again.  Her senses were all stripped raw and she was able to feel things, be overwhelmed by them, bombarded by them.  She was more than giving permission; she was begging Cat to fill her senses while they were available to be filled.

Cat reached down, and pushed two fingers into Kara.  They went in easily, because she was already wet.  To Kara’s dismay, she pulled them out again.  She walked over to the nightstand drawer, and pulled out the strap on.  But, instead of putting it on, she slipped out of her jeans and knelt on the bed next to where Kara was tied up.  “Your first punishment,” was all she said.

And then she slid the cock between her legs, lowered herself onto it, and rode up and down on it, while looking at Kara.  “You want to be down there, don’t you,” she whispered.

Kara nodded in frustration.  Her body clamored.  She wanted to be the one Cat was grinding on top of.  She watched Cat slowly, deliberately fuck herself on it, never breaking eye contact with Kara.  “You love being useful, don’t you,” she went on.  “Being told exactly how to fuck me.”

Kara nodded again.  She could see that Cat was getting off as much on the feel of the cock inside her as the look of hunger and frustration on Kara.

“You want to fuck me, don’t you, Kara,” she pressed.  Kara could hear the soft, wet sounds of it moving in and out of her.

“Please, Cat,” Kara moaned.  She was aroused at the sounds, the smell of Cat’s pleasure, the movement of her hips, at her own frustration.   


“Beg better than that.”

Kara strangled a little cry in her throat.  “Please, Cat, please.  Please let me fuck you,” she squeaked.  She only spoke like that under duress from Cat, and she could tell that Cat enjoyed making her do it.

“Oh,” Cat moaned, her pleasure growing thicker.  “I think I’m going to finish just like this…”  And her eyes dropped closed, and she convulsed against the toy while Kara watched, wanting desperately to be there, in between those thighs, feeling all of her wetness running down her fingers.  Kara trembled watching her.

Cat licked her lips.  She got up, and put the strap-on on, and turned Kara over onto her stomach.  She slapped her ass once and it stung, it stung in a way that it didn’t on a normal day.  Kara moaned out loud.  Cat slapped her ass again, and ordered, “Ass up, please.”

Kara, still tied to the bed, tucked her knees underneath herself and raised her hips into the air, felt the air in the room on her exposed pussy that lay open, waiting for Cat to ravage her.   


“Now,”  Cat mused out loud, “I wonder whether this will feel different, now that you’re not … super.”  She positioned herself behind Kara, and slid the cock into her.   


Kara groaned.  It was different, alright.  She was normally able to adjust herself to accommodate things, but now she had no control.  It was just long, and thick, and pushing roughly inside her.  And it didn’t care whether she wanted to accommodate it or not.   Cat’s thrusts were quick and hard, deep and aggressive and Kara shook and her knees felt like water and she struggled not to be too loud as she panted and moaned.  She was being taken, truly taken, truly fucked, she was truly giving herself and feeling what it was to know physical domination, rather than the voluntary emotional one.   


Cat was right.  It had been play-acting.  It hadn’t been real.  She had still been controlling her body, controlling things in the scene, playing her own game.  She began to weep as Cat pushed into her again and again, fucking her so hard she thought she might finally break.  


“Cat, Cat,” she moaned loudly, “Cat, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry, Cat.  I understand now…”

Cat slapped her ass, let the sting settle into her flesh before slapping it again.  “This is real,” she growled. 

“I know,” Kara sobbed, feeling the pounding inside her, driving her toward orgasm whether she wanted it or not.  But she did.  Oh, god did she.  Cat would have her way.  She always did.  

  
  


***

  
  


Kara lay, still tied to the bed, while Cat idly played with her still-erect nipples.   


“Now that you know,” Kara began hesitantly, “there are some things we can do.”

Cat raised an eyebrow.

“In hindsight,” Kara went on, “this was probably stupid of me.  But there are ways that, if you want to, you can restrain me, and we can make it real.”

“Keep talking.”

Kara took a breath.  “Well.  There’s this stuff.  It’s called Kryptonite…”

  
  



End file.
